Love's Blood
by rejectdemon
Summary: Rose begins her mission to track down and kill Dimitri. But after travelling all the way to Russia, she makes some discoveries that make her wonder if there's another way her love can be saved. possible M rating later on. R&R pwease
1. Chapter 1: Flight to Russia

I leaned my seat as far back as it would let me. The passenger behind me let out an agitated sigh but I didn't have the energy to even turn and glare at him.

We had only been in the sky a good ten minutes when I was once again plagued with one of my spirit-induced migraines. But this time, I came prepared; somehow I had managed to sneak a small package of lower tabs through the Helena Airport security. As soon as the pain started up, I had promptly swallowed the pills, and now I felt a good nap was in order.

The pain in my mind wasn't just from the bombardments of spirits, however. The harrowing events of the past weeks had left me exhausted and hollow. I still found it hard to believe that Dimitri, _my_ Dimitri, had become Strigoi. It seemed unfathomable than anything, living or undead, could have ever defeated him. I tried to find loopholes in the information ghostly Mason had given me, that he wasn't dead, but not alive, yet I could find none.

And the look on Lissa's face as I left, that continued to haunt me as well. Before I truly knew my love for Dimitri, I had thought nothing, repeat, _nothing_, could tear me and Lissa apart. Yet here I was, on a plane to Russia, intentionally putting thousands of miles between me and my best friend. The friend I had dedicated my life to protecting, now in someone else's hands. The friend who had brought me back from the dead, thus creating our inseverable mental bond.

But as much as leaving her hurt, the thought of Dimitri living as the thing he hated most hurt more. I could never let him live like that, in the form his true self was devoted to destroying. As he had told me before, Strigoi were evil, and no longer the person they were in life. They were warped caricatures, only a twisted version of their former selves. He said he'd rather die than be that. And in my mind, I vowed to release him from that state, knowing that death could be the only real peace for him now.

I fell asleep as the plane glided through the sky. I didn't dream, and I was thankful for that. No memories to replay, no scolding visits from Adrian that would surely only bring guilt.

There was a layover in Seattle, and after nearly an hour of sitting in the crowded airport, I finally boarded my plane to Saint Petersberg. I had no real leads on where Dimitri could have gone, but my gut feeling was that he returned to his homeland. And as many a teacher had once told me, in between scoldings, that is, always go with your gut feeling. And I also happened to know that Dimitri's mother lived in a community with other dhampirs in a suburb of St. Petersberg. Some called it a blood whore community, but I knew better than to jump to conclusions. Communities populated by single dhampir women often got these bad reputations, even if said illicit activities aren't going on.

Asleep on the plane again, I had an unfortunately fitful sleep. I dreamt I was facing Dimitri, dhampir versus strigoi. I had my stake in one hand and was one arm thrust away from doing the deed when he whispered "I thought you loved me, Roza. Why would you kill me if you loved me?" The words caused me to falter, and in that milliseceond, he had the upperhand and grabbed me by the throat. In the dream, Dimitri looked down at me with cold red eyes, smiling cruelly. He brought his face close to mine. "Poor, little Rose. All our training gone to waste. Not that you would have been any good as a Guardian. All those pathetic Moroi shall die. But don't worry, my love. I'll awaken you, too." Just as he reached down to sink his teeth into my neck, the captain began talking loudly over the intercom and I awoke with a jolt.

The announcement stated we were getting close to the airport, and I righted my seat and fastened my seatbelt again. My heart still beat fast from the dream and sweat beaded my brow. What if the same thing happend? What if the time came to confront Dimitri and I couldn't do it? All the love and emotion that swam within me for him could easily make me vuanerable towards him. They always had. Like a prayer, I kept reciting in my mind that he wasn't Dimitri anymore. I silently chanted it, hoping that by the time I had to face him, it will have sunken in.


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome to the City

I don't know how I managed to get to the home of Faina Belikov alive, but somehow I did it.

After I left the airport with my single black duffel bag, I hailed a cab in the snow. I used what Russian vocabulary I knew and a pocket translator to give the cab driver the directions I had. The driver said the directions, which I had gathered the day I found my unenrollment papers at the Academy, were beyond his route he said (or something like that), but he'd get me as far as he could.

The man drove like the devil himself was at the tailpipe. With normal circumstances, I would have taken the car ride as a chance to relax and see a little bit of historic St. Petersberg, but instead I was too busy hanging on to my seat belt for dear life. The city flashed by me as the cab flew around street corners, he swearing in Russian, I in English. I had to give the man credit though; he took me all the way across the large city in under twenty minutes flat. Paying him with the roubles I had gained at the airport currency exchange, I hastily exited the death can on wheels. I was grateful, to say the least, to have my feet on solid ground again, but I was quickly disheartened.

I had been dropped off on the edge of the slums, in a filthy alleyway. The alley smelled of alcohol, urine and homeless people, and I saw numerous rats scurrying around my feet. Dirty snow was crusted to the vacant alley, and it seemed as if no one had come this way in a while. Thankfully, I was alone. Who knows what kind of people I could meet on these streets, and I kicked into bad-ass guardian mode. The sun still shown in the sky, signaling I would be safe from Strigoi, but that didn't mean I was safe from the humans that walked these streets. Regardless, there was no way I was letting my guard down in this place.

Ignoring the putrid smell, I walked further down the alley. Dhampirs and Moroi often set up their communities on the edges of human society, so I wasn't surprised that this one was so far out. Nearly all the buildings I passed were broken down and abandoned. Beneath graffiti, I could still see remnants of the city's history, which reflected even upon the styles in which many of the buildings were built.

I turned a corner to a street whose name I couldn't pronounce, and began hearing voices speaking loudly in Russian. I groaned inwardly; they were in the direction I needed to go. My boots crunched in the snow as I continued onward.

Ahead, three men stood in a small circle, talking amongst themselves in what I'm sure they thought were whispers. From the looks of them, I would have bet anything that they had just finished a drug deal and were now making small talk. They were all dressed in dirty, rumpled clothes that had the appearance that they had been worn for several days straight. One had on a thicker looking red flannel coat, another had a brown woolen cap crammed lopsidedly over his head and a cigarette in his mouth. Both seemed to be in their early thirties. The third wore a faded blue hooded sweatshirt over blue jeans, both worn and sporting several stains and holes. His hood was pulled up over his head, obscuring his face.

Smoker boy saw me coming up the street, and elbowed Flannel in the side. Watching me, he said something to his buddies in Russian, a smirk on his grime-covered face. I tensed, my hands gripping my bag tighter. In order to get it through airport security, I had put my stake inside my bag, disguising it as an ornamental cross. But during my crazy cab ride, I had completely forgotten about it and now it still sat at the bottom of my duffel bag, useless if this was going to turn into a fight.

I walked passed the trio, giving them as wide a berth as possible. A wave of odor hit me as I moved passed, the reeking smell of vodka and whiskey. For a moment, I thought nothing would happen, that the drunks would leave me be. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw them spread out on either side of me. Smoker and Hood trailed farther back as Flannel scurried closer. Walking close enough that I could smell his breath, he said something that I'm sure would have translated to something like "Hey baby, why you walking down here all alone?" in English.

Normally, I never would have let a comment sounding remotely like that pass, but in this case, I set my jaw and kept walking. One of the buddies laughed at Flannel's fallen attempt, and Flannel hissed something back quickly. I figured I only had a few moments left until they realized I couldn't understand a word they said and would have the upper hand. Right now, I had a sort of element of surprise, although I had no idea what to do with it. Behind me, Hood, I think, muttered something to Smoker, and I almost froze. I only caught and understood one word, but that was enough; _Strigoi_. That guy had said something about Strigoi, no doubt about it.

Flannel must have seen me stall, because he then made a move. His hand clamped down on my left shoulder, dirty fingernails digging into my parka. I spun around, my right leg swinging behind his knees, knocking him off his feet. Seeing their fallen comrade, Smoker, whose cigarette had burnt out and fallen to the ground, and Hood leaped into action. I gave Smoker a powerful roundhouse kick to the stomach, which left him gripping his midsection and gasping.

Setting my bag down, I turned just in time to send my fist flying into Hood's face. He cried out, his hood falling off. Blood flowed down his face as he cupped his nose with his hands. Contrary to his friends, Hood seemed more boy than man, and I guessed he was no older than fourteen, fifteen max.

Hood was incapacitated, but by that time, Flannel and Smoker had recovered, and boy, did they looked pissed that they were getting their asses handed to them by a girl. I moved into the fighting stance I had practiced with Dimitri so many times before; feet apart, hands up, waiting for my opponents to strike. But they never did.

Before I could move, another figure jumped into the fray. In one swift movement, the figure, who was clad in a black trench coat, grabbed each attacker by their necks and slammed their skulls together in a display fit for a blockbuster film. Flannel and Smoker slumped to the ground, and while Hood tried to make a break for it, my rescuer knocked him onto his back and stood with their foot on his chest.

Even before the vigilante turned to look at me, I knew they were a Dhampir. Skills like that just didn't come by humans honestly these days. But I was, however, surprised to see it was a woman, one several years older than my mother. I internally kicked myself for that thought. Of course woman guardians could kick ass so devastatingly. Duh. I was living proof to that logic.

She was about my height, and her wavy, brown hair went to her shoulders. Both face and hair showed little signs of her age, but there was a sort of, wisdom, I guess, that I often felt around older Guardians that hung about her. The woman looked at me, eyebrows raised, and I instantly knew who she was. I knew those eyes, those dark eyes that had bored into me intensely, had watched me lovingly. The eyes would get lost in and had longed to swim in for eternity.

"Faina Belikov?" I asked, hoping I wasn't being stupid. Dimitri's mother wasn't a Guardian, that I knew. She had stayed home to raise her family. But once again, my gut feeling told me this was she.

She leaned her head towards me, and spoke quickly in Russian. I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I don't speak Russian very well," I said, hoping she understood me.

"Yes, I am Faina Belikov," She said, speaking my language fluently. I gave a sigh of relief, as Faina looked me up and down. "You are a Dhampir," She stated. "You must be looking for something. This isn't a part of town tourists regulate. Plenty of scum lurk these streets." The boy beneath her foot started writhe and groan, I guessed more from the pain than her harsh words.

Then I remembered what Hood had spoken earlier. "Mrs. Belikov," I said abruptly, "These humans mentioned something about Strigoi before they jumped me, but I didn't catch it." Faina looked down at the tiny gang, her eyebrows furrowed. She began speaking briskly, her voice rising. Once again, I caught the word Strigoi.

Faina must have threatened Hood nicely, because he winced and began rattling off a trail of words, indicating towards me several times. When he was done, Faina sighed. She removed her foot, then spoke to him again, softer but with the same amount of sternness and intensity. Once she motioned towards Flannel and Smoker, who were still unconcious, and Hood shook his head wildly. The boy then got up and ran haphazardly down the street and out of sight.

The Dhampir turned towards me again. "The boy was just being foolish. He told me a long winded story of how he has an uncle who told him a tale of demons with faces of beautiful women than seduce men and steal their souls. He got the idea you were one and mentioned it to his friend. The child's head is full of fairy tales, and I beleive he got 'Strigoi' confused with 'Succubus,'" Faina said, tutting. "I would like to meet that uncle of his. A true uncle doesn't send his young nephew off on drug runs." She then took a moment, wiping off her hands on her coat and eying my near forgotten duffel bag, then me again.

"You havn't come looking to be a blood whore, have you? From what I saw before, you belong standing by a Moroi's side, not on your back beneath one." Faina told me. I could feel my cheeks getting red.

"Oh no, no, no," I said with embarrassment. and hurriedly picking up my bag. "I came looking for you, actually. I need to talk to you about your son Dimitri. It's important."

Faina looked at me questioningly. "Dimitri? What about him? Did something happen?"

My heart lurched. So I had to be the one that informed Mrs. Belikov that her son was Strigoi.

I bit my lip and looked around. The sun was setting, and I guessed we had less than an hour of daylight left. "Please, is there anywhere safer where we could talk more securely?" I asked.

She nodded. "Of course. The settlement where we Dhampirs reside is just this way." Faina strided past me.

Worry lines were now etched on her face. I knew Dimitri often stood by the "no news is good news" policy, I had the feeling so did his mother. The fact that I had important information regarding her son troubled her. Why had no one at the Academy at least called to tell Faina that her son had been captured by Strigoi? I wondered.

My heart heavy with the news I was about to bring, I quietly followed her through the twilight.


	3. Chapter 3: Breaking the Bad News

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I sat at a small wooden table in an equally small kitchen. Faina stood a few feet away, adjusting the tea kettle she had just set on the stove. She was happily humming a tune I did not know, her back facing me.

Looking around the small house the Belikov's lived in, I sensed a profound sensation of family togetherness. I could have easily imagined Dimitri and I, along with Lissa and Christian, coming here to visit on holidays. One big happy family. Photographs lined the walls and sat atop shelves. My heart swayed when I saw pictures of Dimitri. I saw a photo of a small dark-haired child wrapped up in scarves and a thick coat, standing awkwardly on the frozen tundra, holding a stack of books in his arms. I had never seen a picture of Dimitri as a child, but I knew it was him straight away, with his dark eyes burning intelligently.

Faina saw me examining the photo and smiled. "It was Dimitri's first day of school. We had a hard time getting him out of bed that morning. He had stayed up reading all night," she said, reminiscing. Faina then looked at me. "You seem too young to be a full-fledged Guardian. How do you know my Dimitri?"

I played with a strand of my hair for a moment, unsure of how to answer exactly. It would probably be safer not to indulge her with the knowledge of me and Dimitri's personal relationship. Most mothers would frown upon their twenty-six year old son hooking up with his seventeen year old student.

"He was my mentor and trainer at St. Vladimir's," I said before I could catch my mistake.

"Was?" She asked, getting two ceramic mugs out of a cupboard and setting them on the countertop. "Ms. Hathaway, has something happened that I am not aware of?"

I looked down at my hands, which sat on my lap, then back up at her. Her face was creased with worry lines.

"Mrs. Belikov," I began. "Little more than a week ago, the Academy was attacked by a large band of Strigoi."

Faina sat down and listened fixedly as I told her the story of what had happened, sure to leave certain details out. Her face fell more and more, and when I told her of Dimitri's disappearance, she let out a cry of despair. Reciting what sounded like prayers in Russian, Faina got to her feet, tears streaming down her face.

The tea kettle began to whistle and she began to clumsily pour the hot water into the mugs over tea bags. A steaming jet of water missed the cup and splashed onto the counter, dripping to the floor. Faina cursed and nearly broke one of the mugs.

Seeing her clearly distraught, I got up to help her but she shoed me away. Ignoring the mess, Faina reached over for the clunky white telephone, which was attacked to the wall with a dragging spiral cord. She punched several numbers into the receiver and held it up to her ear, trying to compose herself.

After a moment, she began talking hurriedly, but her voice broke and she burst into tears again. The voice on the other line must have soothed her, however, because after a few moments, Faina was able to speak again, more calmly than before.

I looked down at my feet, feeling horrible. Someone else should have told Mrs. Belikov about Dimitri, not her son's lover (not that she knew that, thankfully).

Faina hung up the phone and turned to me, taking deep breathes. "Did they send you from the school to come tell me of this in person?" She asked.

I shook my head slowly. "No. I had hoped you would have already known about Dimitri when I set out. I came because I could think of no other place to start searching. He was my mentor, and it's my duty to find him and destroy what he has become."

She looked at me with sad eyes.

"I could never handle all the death, you know. That's why I never became a Guardian. I dropped out of the academy I was attending a year before graduation. It was more fulfilling for me to love and raise my family than spend my life training to kill," Faina took a picture of her son off the wall, hugging it tightly to her chest.

"But I was so proud the day Dimitri graduated. I watched him grow so much over his years in school that I could barely contain my pride. He was going to be what I could not. He was so strong, so much stronger than I ever was."

She set the photo down and returned her eyes to me. "I don't know how much help I can be in your quest. I can see in your eyes you loved him too," She said. I looked down, hoping I wasn't giving too much emotion away. "You know his heart and don't wish him to suffer. I am grateful to you for that."

Faina bid me to sit down again, and she took my hand across the table. She smiled sadly. "Find him. Take care of him. But don't let your love make you foolish."

Just then, a clock in the other room struck eleven. With all of today's events, time had flown. I suddenly felt exhausted, and longed for sleep.

My tiredness must have shown, because Faina let go of my hand chuckled softly. "You must be exhausted. It's been a long day, hasn't it? Come, you can stay in Sasha's room for tonight."

Faina led me out of the kitchen down a small hallway with four doors. She indicated to the two doors on the left. "That's my bedroom, and there's the toilet." Then on the other side, "Dimitri's room, Sasha's room." She opened the first door and led me inside.

Sasha, Dimitri's sister, I presumed, had a small, simple room. There was a single-mattress bed, a tall, skinny wardrobe and low, wooden desk on three separate sides of the room. The bed was made with a blue and pink floral spread, and I was eager to crash on it.

"Good night, Rose," Faina said and I let her hug me. To think, she could have been my mother-in-law. I wished I could have a normal life and it all could've been that easy. Tears began to well slightly in my eyes, but Faina didn't notice. She let me go, then left the room and closed the door softly behind her.


	4. Chapter 4: A Gift from Faina

**CH 4**

That night, I dreamt of Dimitri. Not of the creature that he surely was, but of what he used to be. Even in dreams, his touch sent charges up my spine, electrifying me with pleasure. His strong, comforting arms held me close like he would never let me go. Whispering sweet words and promises to me, muttering my name in Russian. I wanted nothing more than him to touch me, to be as close to me as possible.

But suddenly, he vanished and I was left alone in an empty room by my self. His voice echoed around me.

"Save me, Roza, save me."

I awoke with tears running down my face. It took all of my self-control to repress the earth-shattering sobs that loomed within me. I didn't want to wake or worry Faina.

Restless, I rose from the bed and tiptoed across the room to the door. I could hear Faina's heavy breathing in the room across from mine and knew she was sleeping. Slowly opening the door, I lurked into the dark hallway. My Dhampir eyes let me see perfectly in the bad lighting, and I moved over to the door next to mine.

I quickly entered the room and shut the door. It must have been awhile since Dimitri had been here, but his room still smelled strongly of his aftershave. The smell comforted me.

The room was even smaller than Sasha's, and had only a bed with a long footlocker resting at the end. Books covered the floor, the name Louis L'amour on nearly every cover. On the wall above his bed, a poster from the old movie _Stagecoach_ looked down, John Wayne staring off obliviously, smirking. For some reason, I wanted to tear down that smile. Why should he be happy when my life was going to hell?

I sat down on Dimitri's rumpled bed that he hadn't bothered to make on his last visit. Behind the door, hanging from a hook, was a duster identical to the one he had always worn. I went to fetch it, then flopped back down on the bed again, my face buried in the fabric.

I smiled, the smell of him filling my nostrils. Feeling content, I fell asleep.

Sun light shown on me through the window, blazing directly in my eyes. Waking up with a groan, I tumbled off the bed.

Startled, I leapt to my feet. Faina was standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eye brows raised. I rubbed my forehead and refused to meet her gaze. She must think me a silly child for sneaking into her son's room.

"What time is it?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't question my whereabouts.

"Almost two thirty," she replied, clearly amused.

"In the afternoon?" I cried. I had planned on leaving hours ago. Now I was behind schedule, not that I really had one.

As I darted past Faina going through the door, I realized I was still clutching Dimitri's jacket. I moved to toss it back inside, but Faina held up a hand.

"Keep it," She spoke softly, a tiny smile playing across her face. In her eyes, I could see she knew. She knew how I really felt about her son, that he meant more to me than just a teacher. "I'm sure he would like you have it."

"Thank you," I murmured. It felt odd knowing someone I wasn't especially close to knew my secret, especially Dimitri's mother.

I quickly went to the next room to collect my bag. I was burning daylight, which was one thing I couldn't afford to lose. Even though I had no idea where I was going, I couldn't stay in one place for very long. Every minute I wasted was another Moroi the thing that was Dimitri could have killed. And I couldn't let that happen, for both of us.

I pulled Dimitri's duster over my sweater, resting my stake carefully inside one of the hidden inner pockets. Then I felt a hand on my arm and I turned.

"I don't have much of an idea to where he could've gone, exactly," Faina whispered. "But I know that whenever Dimitri was lost or confused, he always returned to the place that brought him the most comfort. And right now, I know he must be very lost. But I know you can help him find himself again." She placed a small red, leather-bound volume in my hands. Etched into the cover were the words _''vosstanovlenie vampira''._

"What is this?" I asked. I knew the word vampira meant vampire, of course, but I had no idea what the other word said. Flipping quickly through the faded yellow pages, I saw the whole thing was written in Latin and Russian Cyrillic, and other languages I couldn't name.

"Aleksander picked it up on one of his travels," Faina answered, her eyes remaining glued to the book, unwavering. She seemed almost unwilling to part with the tome. "I have only been able to read a part of it myself, but if what this book says is true, then it could be of quite some use to you. It is called Restoration of the Vampire."

Restoration of the Vampire? I thought. But what does that have to do-

Suddenly it came to me, and I looked up at Faina. "You mean-"

She smiled knowingly, bowing her head slightly. "Yes, if it's true. But who knows," the Dhampir said, leading me closer to the door. "It might turn out to be a great load of nonsense."

Faina, my lover's mother, opened the door for me, and I stepped outside into the cold. It was snowing again, and it seemed as if the thick grey clouds had swallowed up the sun.

"But I shall pray every night that it is not, and I will pray for your safety and that you deliver my son from evil." Her face became solemn again, and she turned away from me, not willing to let me see her cry again. As the door closed, I was already several feet away. There was no time to lose.

Because now I had something that I had lost the day Dimitri was taken; Hope.


	5. Chapter 5: You may call me father

Flipping through the pages of "Restoration of the Vampire", I only caught a few words I was familiar with. 'Strigoi', 'Moroi', and 'Dhampir' were scattered almost on every page. Most of the writing was illegible, though, so I had no idea what the book was really about.

According to Faina, it would help me save Dimitri, save him in a way that didn't involve a stake through the heart. "To restore him," I muttered. God, I hope it's true.

I sat on a bench in a decrepid old park, just outside the Dhampir community I had just left. The sky was beginning to clear and no longer spewed wet drops of snow. The alleyway I had been ambushed in was a few blocks away, but I wasn't at all worried. I was confident Faina scared the merry bunch of misfits silly. And now that the incident was over, I felt rather flattered that the boy with the hoodie thought I saw a beautiful she-demon bent on stealing the hapless souls of men. It warmed my heart and I couldn't help but smirk.

Setting the book down atop my bag, I leaned back, feeling the leather of the jacket that enclosed me. I needed to plan my next move, but where to? Except for giving me the book, Faina gave me little help in relate to my mission. I could go back to America, I thought, but something told me it wasn't time yet. There was something important I still needed to do on this continent before I went back across the pond, But I wasn't really sure what it was. I was beginning to doubt that Dimitri was even in the country, so I had no idea what else held me here.

I gazed out over the playground, which looked like a place where old rusted slides and metal swings went to die. At the far end across from me, two wooden play towers stood facing each other, a ladder of orange-brown monkeybars connecting them. The apparatus looked like it would give a child tetnus if they even stared at it too long.

Behind the lefthand tower, I then noticed the tiniest of movements. Normally, I would have brushed it off as the wind, but not anymore. I was more paranoid and aware than I had been two weeks ago. My eyes darted back to the movement, and I noticed a figure standing in the shadows behind the tower. My heart started beating faster. The figure was tall, unnaturally tall for a human and I could make out a mane of dark hair. I couldn't tell what the person was wearing, but it almost looked like they were clad in a long black jacket almost identical to mine...

A dog startlingly close behind me started barking furiously, and I jumped, getting to my feet and whirling around. A large, shaggy brown dog stood nearly directly behind me, it's hackles raised. I noticed it's dark, edgy eyes were pin-pointed to the left-hand tower. I turned to look back at the figure, but it was gone.

The dog started to relax, and I held out a hand to it. The animal's pelt was grimy and messy, it's pointed ears crawling with fleas while mange covered it's face and hindquarters. By the looks of the little fella, I guessed the poor boy had never really known a home, let alone a bath. Which was a shame, because it seemed nice enough.

"Come'ere boy," I said pleasantly. The creatures tail began to wave, and for a moment I thought it was going to come to me. But, like all animals I usually met, it turned it's back to me and started to trot away, not wanting to venture near. At least it didn't growl, I thought, trying to lighten the mood.

I grabbed my bag and book, and began walking across the park. I investigated the tower I had seen the figure, but found nothing but the structure's long, dark shadow.

Calm down, I told myself. It couldn't have been him. Even though the sky was dark due to the clouds, there was no way a Strigoi could have ventured outside during the daylight hours. With all the stress I've been going through, my mind was playing tricks on me. There probably hadn't been anyone there in the first place. Or maybe it was a ghost or spirit.

Eager to make myself busy and relax, I started walking back toward the main portion of St. Petersberg. I figured it would give me a lot of good time to think, and search for clues if I could. Maybe I could find a translator or someone who could help me decipher the book.

I made a list as I walked. In the end, if I couldn't accomplish any of these tasks, I would just continue onto the airport. I would take my quest elsewhere, maybe even back to America. But not to the Academy. I could never go back there, not until I found Dimitri.

The more I walked, the lower the sun continued to sink closer to the horizon. I began seeing and passing more and more people as I got closer to the inner city. Cars were more abundant, and the streets grew louder. I relished the presence of others, knowing that as it got darker, Strigoi attacks were more of a risk, and if I was surrounded by people, the chances of meeting one got slimmer.

Finally, the sun set completely, and the only light came from streetlamps and neon signs and lights eminating from cars and apartments. I got many odd looks from pedestrians, and I guess they must have found it strange to see a girl traveling down the street at night wearing a long leather jacket that threatened to trip me every couple of steps. Many of the looks were from men, looks that were similar to the looks Flannel, Smoker and Hood had given me last night. Looks that weren't as friendly as they appeared to be.

My stomach soon began to rumble hungrily. I hadn't eaten all day. Faina had insisted I ate before I left her house, but I had been in too much of a hurry. I passed a small pub and stopped before the window. Locals were drinking and laughing together, while others dined in the back of the bar. I saw a few meals that caught my eye, especially a delectable looking warm, brown soup.

"Most don't speak a word of English in there, just so you know. It would be rather hard for you to place an order," said a male's voice behind me.

I reached inside my jacket instinctually to grasp my stake tightly, while I turned to look at the man who had just spoken to me. The man wore a tan, cotton jacket over pleated grey slacks. He was older, in his late thirties I guessed, but his dark hair wasn't grey or receding at all. A tasteful moustache graced his upper lip, and a small beard rested upon his chin. The man was tall and lean, with glittering brown eyes. When the man had spoken, I detected a hint of an accent, one I couldn't place. I guessed Middle-Eastern. His skin was dark tan, yet still held a paler, translucent quality. I could automatically tell that he was Moroi.

I took a step back from him and the window. His hands were in his pockets, and he smiled. "There's no need to be frightened, Rose. I would never harm my own daughter."

What was this man talking about? I thought tensely. "What do you mean? Who the hell are you?" I demanded.

He chuckled. "My name is Ibrahim. But if you like, you may call me father."


	6. Chapter 6: Meeting Ibrahim

"E-excuse me?" I stuttered, confused. A month ago I might have thought this a gag. Maybe one of Lissa or Adrian's rich friends had hired this man to pose as my long-lost father just to mess with me. But I knew it wasn't true. Not even close. It was that name, and it rang in my ears disbelievingly. I had only heard it once before, and I had never even mentioned it to Lissa or my mother or any one. The day I had met with the queen, she had dropped the name into the conversation, as if I had known before that it belonged to my father.

Now, here he was. A Moroi who indeed did look Turkish and sporting the name Ibrahim. It seemed like too much to be a simple coincidence.

"I take it Janine never even told you my name?" He said, amused but with a hint of disappointment. "But I _am_ your father, Rosemarie. I recognise the nazar I gave your mother around your wrist."

My eyes darted down to my wrist, where the tiny charm was dangling slightly beyond the coat sleeve. A normal human probably wouldn't have noticed it.

He took a step towards me. I remained where I was, rooted to the spot, staring at the man who, in my heart, I knew was my father. He had a roguish sparkle in his eye that I also possessed, a sparkle I most definitely hadn't gotten from my mother.

"My father?" I said out loud, more to myself than to anyone else. He nodded.

"We have so much to talk about, Rose, to get properly acquainted. I do not expect you to trust me, but I hope you can try. Just for tonight, so we can speak," Ibrahim said calmly. "After eight-teen years of me giving you nothing, I beg you will give me just one night."

His words seemed so kind, so genuine. Yes, I'd go with him. He was a nice man, and I wanted to get to know my father after-

"Are you using compulsion on me?" I demanded angrily. Several passer-by's looked at me strangely and hurried past. But I didn't care. How_ dare_ this man, let alone my_ father, _use compulsion on me, especially when I'd only known him for about forty seconds.

Ibrahim scratched his beard and looked away for a moment, embarrassed that I had fought through his magic. "I'm sorry. I just heard that you would be exceptionally stubborn. Not unlike your mother." He tried smiling at me, but I continue staring hard at him, trying to hide my emotions. I crossed my arms, silently infuriated. I actually had been contemplating going with him, but after that little act, I no longer planned on it.

And he seemed to know it. His face fell dispiritedly, and he reached over to put a hand on my arm, a hand I quickly shook off.

"I told you, I apologize Rose. And I beg you to forgive me and come. You don't know how long I've waited to truly meet you. Please..." He trailed off sullenly, as if already defeated. I swept my eyes over him again, and noticed how faded his clothes were, how scuffed the once shining leather of his shoes were, and that there was in fact grey in his beard in hair. The man before me looked like he was well used to defeat, and I couldn't help feeling pity for him.

I groaned, looking up at the night sky. "Where are your Guardians?" I asked exasperatedly.

Ibrahim shrugged. "I don't have any. I had one once, and every other Guardian just seemed innadequite compared to her," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

I rubbed my temples. "Greeeat..." I mumbled. By his tone, I could tell Ibrahim meant my mother, which made no sense because it was common knowledge that Janine Hathaway had been a Guardian to the Szelsky clan in Nepal.

Ibrahim then took a white pack of cigarettes out of one of his pockets, removed one and stuck it lazily in his mouth. He lit it and looked at me again. I wrinkled my nose at the putrid smoke; these cigarettes smelled worse than Adrain's. For a moment I thought it might have been weed, but I quickly realized it wasn't. I coughed into my jacket sleeve, glaring at my father slightly.

"Ugh, I'll go with you if you put that nasty thing out," I rasped. Looking from me to his cigarette and back again, he raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" Ibrahim asked skeptically. He obviously didn't believe me.

I thought about it for a minute. I really no where to go, no leads to follow, no evidence to track. After meeting with Dimitri's mother, I kind of hit a dead end in St. Peter'sberg. As much as I hated sidetracking from my mission, I suppose I could think of no excuse not to follow him. Hell, maybe if I was lucky, this man, Ibrahim, my father, could even help me. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that he had just happened to show up on the very street in the very city at the very same time I was here, all the way in St. Peter'sberg, Russia. And although I felt stupid for thinking it, I pondered if it could possibly be fate.

Running a hand through my hair, I looked at Ibrahim. I could tell he knew I was considering his proposal, and his eyes were wide and bright with hope. I sighed.

"Fine, fine, I'll go with you. We can talk, but only for tonight. I'm on a very important operation and can't be detained long," I said, giving in.

"So I've heard," My father said, his face breaking into a wide grin, showing his exceptionally white teeth. "From what I've heard, they just can't seem to keep you in school for very long, now can they? You bend the rules to fit your needs. Like father, like daughter," He laughed softly.

Then, me walking a good arm's legnth away, the two of us began walking silently up the avenue.


	7. Chapter 7: Ah, the Confusion!

Ibrahim brought me to the motel where he was staying. I felt slightly on edge. For all I knew, this guy was just some creeper who was bringing me to his room to drug me and....

I pushed the thought from my mind, trying to feel confidant that Ibrahim was my father.

The motel was actually a modest three star hotel. The room Ibrahim occupied had two twin beds, a tall mahogany wardrobe, and a brick fireplace with two stuffed chairs and a small coffee table before it. I took a seat in the left chair, watching Ibrahim as he took off his coat and tossed it on top of the unmade bed. He then took out his pack of matches I had seen earlier and hunkered down in front of the fireplace to light it. He obviously hadn't specialized in fire.

That got me thinking; what _had_ my father specialized in? I noticed a close-to-death cactus on a window sill. By the state of the plant, I think it was safe to say he hadn't specialized in earth, either.

After the fire was up and blazing, Ibrahim sat down in the chair opposite me, and I opened my mouth to ask him about his element. He cut me off before I could get a word in.

"My Rosemarie. You certainly have grown into a beautiful young woman. Just like your mother," He smiled pleasantly. "I've only been able to see you before on one occasion. One day, when you were still a young girl and before I lost my fortune, I came to visit you at the Montana school. St. Vladamir's. But I was to frightened of what your mother would do when she found out. And, as you probably know, your mother _always_ finds out." He chuckled softly and I let myself smile. She really did _always_ find out somehow.

"So all I did was watch from the shadows as you played tag with a blond-haired girl. She is the last Dragomir princess, is she not?" Ibrahim asked.

I nodded, trying not to show I was kind of freaked out at the fact that he had watched me and Lissa 'from the shadows' when we were kids. "Yeah, her name's Vasilisa. Her family died a while back in a car crash." I didn't feel it was necessary to tell him I had died in that car crash too. That, along with Lissa's power with spirit, fell in the 'need to know basis' category.

"So I heard. Pity. The Dragomirs were a great, noble family. You are Vasilisa's guardian, am I correct?" He said, scratching his chin.

"I was. Lissa and me have been best friends forever. But now that I ditched out of the academy early, she'll get assigned someone new," I fidgeted uncomfortably, staring into the fire. I didn't like talking about how I abandoned Lissa. It made me feel even worse.

"Ah, yes. That brings us to the root of the issue. It is curious that you simply didn't wait to do whatever needed doing until you graduated in a few months. So why did you leave? Was it because of your mentor?"

I looked up at him. He seemed to know a lot for a guy who had never before been a part in my life. "What about you?" I demanded. "It seems awful lucky that I just happened to bump into you on the street back there. What do you know and why are you here? Did someone send you off to find me?" I could feel my cheeks become flushed with anger.

Ibrahim leaned back in his chair and intertwined his fingers across his lap. His face was calm and serene. "I know a lot, Rosemarie. I know that you have dedicated your life to protecting Lissa. I know how hard you took it when your peer died on a mission in which you killed two Strigoi," His eyes bored into me. I remained silent as he continued.

"I know the terrible things Victor Dashkov did to his neice, and in turn you. I know how you long for your mothers affection. You want her to be Mrs. Brady, always there for you. But she's not that kind of woman. I know how envious you are of Lissa and her boyfriend, because you can never be with your own love. Yes, I even know about your tryst and enamoring for your teacher, Belikov. And I know how you died in the car crash that killed the Dragomirs, and Lissa, a spirit user, brought you back," Ibrahim's face was solemn, and I'm sure mine looked horrified. And I was. How the _hell_ did he know this stuff?

"Oh, yes, I know you are shadow kissed."

I stood up, my hand reaching inside my jacket for my stake. Father or not, if he somehow got all this information from my head, invaded my mind, there was gonna be a stake through the bastard's heart.

I couldn't even think of anything to say. And before I could even take a step towards him, Ibrahim bolted from his seat and suddenly I felt his hands on either side of my face.

"_Sleep_," I heard him whisper. And, feeling suddenly tired, I did.

-----------------------------------

Whatever that asshole did to me, it didn't hurt. I just fell asleep. And dreamed.

I was back at the Academy. Or outside on the grounds is more like it. It was snowing and all the leaves were gone from the trees. There was a familiar frozen pond a few meters away. I was wearing the same blue sweater and jeans I wore the day I left. I knew i should be cold, but I wasn't. A voice spoke behind me.

"Rose?"

I turned around. Lissa stood there in the snow. She was dressed in the same parka and knit hat she had on the day me, her, Christian and Tasha Ozera had gone skating on the pond. Her eyes were wide with a mix of sorrow and anticipation.

"Lissa?" I asked. She nodded and I knew. Adrian had finally managed to teach her how to dream walk.

She walked slowly towards me, cautious, as if too fast a movement would whisk her away. "Rose. It is you. Ever since you left I've been trying so hard to get this right. Please Rose, please come home. There's nothing you can do for-"

I cut her off by turning my back on her and walking away. This may be her dream, but that didn't mean I had to stay and listen to her tell me what I was doing was pointless. I wouldn't let her ruin my hopes or question my actions. As great or amazing as it was to see her, I couldn't let her get to me.

In a flash, she was in front of me again. This time, her sadness was replaced by anger. "Quit running away, Rose!" She burst out.

"That's what you think I'm doing? Running away?" My voice rose, and I knew I was shouting. But I didn't care. "If only it was that easy to run away from all this. But I can't, Lissa. EVER. Do you know why?"

I pounded my chest with a fist, directly over my heart. "Love. My love for Dimitri, my love for you. It traps me. Suffocates me. There are times when I wish it would all just go away and for just ONCE I could love myself," Lissa just stared at me, shocked. But I wasn't done yet.

"I just _can't_ love myself. I killed Mason. I killed Dimitri. There are so many times I almost killed you," My voice cracked, and in the dream, tears were flowing down my face.

Lissa wrapped her arms around me. And even though it was only a dream, it helped. Lissa knew what it was like to hate yourself, to hurt so bad on the inside that you just didn't know what to do. "Ssh," she comforted. "It's okay, Rose. Don't worry, it'll all be okay."

I calmed myself and she let go. 'I'm so sorry. I didn't know that you really felt that way. I always try so hard to see inside your mind for once, but I can't even see how much I weigh you down."

I sighed. "You don't weigh me down, Liss. I can't even imagine myself without you. But do see what I mean now, when I say I can't come home. Not yet. And if I must, not ever. I can't just abandon Dimitri. The only reason I knew I could leave you was that I know you'll still be protected. You'll always have a guardian looking out for you. But Dimitri has no one looking out for him."

Lissa was silent for a few moments. Then she sighed. ''I understand," she said softly. "But please stay safe. Stay with Ibrahim. He'll protect-''

"How do you know about Ibrahim?" I exclaimed, confused beyond all reason.

Lissa smiled mischievously. "You sometimes forget I'm a princess, therefore I have endless available resources. Not to mention all Adrain's connections. It only took about a day and a half to track your father down. Don't know why we hadn't done it sooner. He's quite a nice man. Very charming.

"We already guessed you would be somewhere in Europe, and he and his, uh, coven, I guess, had been traveling through Romania. We had no idea he would find you so soon though." She seemed rather puzzled, but not as puzzled as I was.

"So let me get this straight. You and Adrain and god knows who else, tracked down my long-lost father so he could in turn track ME down and drag me home. That about it?"

Another crooked smile. "Pretty much. I filled him in on as much of our history as I could. I told him 'bout me, Christian, your mom, Dimitri...all that stuff."

"Yeah, thanks for that," I said dryly. Well that explained why he knew so much about me. "He must think his daughter is a little skank who slept with her teacher."

She looked confused again. " I didn't tell him that. I just said Dimitri was your mentor and that you two were very close. I never told him how you guys were actually, you know, involved with each other."

I groaned. "I must make it obvious, then. Dimitri's mother was able to figure it out, too." I really needed to work harder at hiding my emotions.

"You met with Faina Belikov? Wait, are you in St. Petersburg?" Lissa asked, getting excited.

Dammit. I gave away my location. I figured I should probably wake up now, before I let anything else slip. "Look, Liss, I'm glad I was able to talk to you, but I really need to wake up now. Time to hit the dusty trail, you know? Get back on my giant quest and what not.''

I turned away from her. Something in the snow caught my foot, though, and I started sailing forward. I could feel Lissa distantly grab for me, and her voice became fuzzy and muffled.

Right before my face hit the fluffy, white snow beneath me, I was gone.


	8. Chapter 8: Interesting Revelations

*hey sorry it took so long to update. thanx so much for the great comments. i really appreciate it^^*

* * *

My eyes flashed open as my head snapped forward. At first I found it hard to move, then I realized I was still enveloped in my large, leather duster. A flash of uneasiness swept over me briefly, along with confusion, before I remembered where I was. Laying over the covers of a made-up bed, I lifted my head to look at the man who sat silently in the chair a few feet away.

I couldn't read Ibrahim's expression. He was once again staring at me, as if I was a book he was trying to read in a hurry.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he said quietly. "Please don't be too angry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I broke my word and I apologize."

My head was still foggy from the depth of my sleep and I wasn't sure what he was talking about. "W...what?" I asked hoarsely.

"I promised I wouldn't try compulsion on you again. But you were getting so upset and out of sorts that I wasn't sure what else to do. Did you... speak to your friend?"

"Wait, _what_?" I realized, remembering all that Lissa had told me. "You!" Getting to my feet, I pointed to him accusingly. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Ibrahim didn't appear at all jostled by my ourburst. His expression didn't change. "I wish I could say," he said calmly, almost more to himself than to me. I tensely waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"How much do you really know?" I demanded, frustrated. "How could you not tell me that you had talked to Lissa? That she _sent _you looking for me. You must've known how damn important that would be!" Sitting back down, I rubbed my temples. I felt angry and confused and hungover, which was weird because the dream-encounters I had had before with Adrian never left me feeling so strange. Maybe it was just because Lissa was so new at it.

"Yes. Well, let me answer the best and as completely as I can," Ibrahim ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "The Lady Dragomir told me specifically to be discreet. She wanted to speak to you first before I revealed my purpose," His eyes darted away from me, his eyebrows furrowed. Ibrahim was silent for a few minutes.

"Do you know how annoying it is when your bounced in an alleyway by two beefy dhampirs half your age? It has a way of ruining a man's night."

"What?" I was getting tired of saying it. This guy needed some sort of medication with the way he always drifted from one subject to another. My head was pounding and I was not in the mood for his games. "What are you talking about now?"

He chuckled. "Servents of the Ivashkov clan. Brought me to some, some _warehouse_ it seemed, and demanded I hunt down my young daughter I don't even know who _may _be a country over. It was so ridiculous, that they were so severe and brutal in their assignment. All they needed to do was ask me politely," My father got up from the chair and in one movement sat down next to me. "Nonetheless, it was annoying. I had to leave my companions and head out on a wild goose chase on a wild goose chase."

So that's how it is. Even my dad thinks I'm on a wild goose chase. I tried to sit calmly as he continued, not sure where he was heading with this.

"But I quickly reevaluated the situation and saw it as an opportunity. To think, I was only a few hundred miles away from my Rosemarie. I was surprised at how fast I could find you, even with my....abilities. Perhaps it's our shared blood. I do not know. But I was quickly drawn to this city. And I found you. Oh, foundyou_," _He ran a hand through his greying hair again as he shook his head.

"What do you mean exactly? What sort of...." Then I realized it. The strong compulsion. The noxious cigarettes. Both tell-tale signs. There was something else too. I couldn't name it, but with all the spirit users I knew, I had come to recognise the slightly different way they carried themselves and reacted to certain things.

"Yes," Ibrahim confirmed. "I am a spirit user. One of the few left. I must admit, it felt heartwarming to know that your friend is one as well. Nice girl, that Miss Dragomir. She is still young and weak in her abilities, as is expected, so getting information about the two of you was quite easy."

"You used compulsion on her?" I said, surprised. Lissa was the strongest compulsion I knew, or even knew of. "But how is that possible. I thought you only talked to her over the phone."

"Indeed," He nodded, then changed his voice. "But sometimes the way I speak can sound exceptionally trustworthy and pleasing to the ear to those I will it. Sometimes, people will let things slip, even if they shouldn't."

His voice was sultry and smooth, like velvet, and caused a ripple to go off inside my head, messing with my emotions and making me shudder. Creeeeeeepy...

"Don't do that," I said through gritted teeth, feeling unpleasant. Ibrahim let out a great burst of laughter.

"Yes, very sorry for that," He said, chortling uncontrolably. I let myself smirk; the tension in the room was starting to lessen. Finally.

"Lissa doesn't know you're a spirit user, does she? She would have told me something if she did," I said. "Do you know how excited she'd be to find another one like her, besides Adrian."

Ibrahim smiled. "True. And, if fate allows, perhaps I shall be able to meet Miss Dragomir and we can learn from each other."

By 'if fate allows', I knew he meant 'if my mother allows'. I wasn't sure if my father was genuinely planning to be a part of my life or not, but if he was, my mom would be a serious obstacle. She hadn't seen Ibrahim in over 18 years, and while she wasn't the best mom ever, I doubted Janine would want her estranged ex-lover who was practically a perfect stranger to just suddenly appear back in our lives. But I couldn't help but think of how nice it could be to finally know my father.

"Yeah, maybe," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. While the pain was lessening, my head still ached.

"I'm sorry about that," Ibrahim said out of the blue.

"Huh?"

"Your head. I didn't realize that when I entered your mind the way I did that it would leave you feeling so miserable."

I just stared at him. "You did what to my mind?" I wasn't even mad; I had already used up all my energy for pissed-off at him. There was no point at yelling at the guy. Now I was just curious.

He shrugged. "Using spirit, I had always been able to, hmm, how should I put it? See into, I suppose, minds. Nothing major, just reading thoughts and certain strong emotions. Sometimes it causes headaches or small migraines for them afterward. Humans have always been the easiest to read, with their emotions so fervent and bold, always out on their sleeves," Ibrahim scratched his beard thinking. "But it was like I could hear you from miles away. Maybe thats why I could find you so easily. It baffles me. Most minds were like a thin pamphlet left after a parade. But yours is like a heavy tome, with a story so twisting and, I must say, heart-wrenching," His eyebrows were arched sympathetically. "I know how it is to lose the one you love."

_Does he mean Mom?_ I wondered before pushing the thought away. I then looked at him questioningly. What Ibrahim described, reading peoples minds, that is, sounded like the connection I had with Lissa. But this new spirit ability didn't surprise me. Not all. It was like there was no end to the crazy things spirit could do. I knew Lissa would be excited to know that she may actually be able to read _my_ mind one day. If I ever manage to get back to her...

"Why am I so different?" I asked. "What about my mind makes it so easy for you to dive into it?"

"Like I said, I don't know. Perhaps our blood. Or perhaps that you are shadow-kissed somehow makes it easier for me to enter your head, since there is already an open channel there, the one that connects you to Miss Dragomir. And, I suppose, to the Ivashkov brat. He seemed to have visited you quite regularly via dream. Really, now that I think about it, mind-reading is not much different than dream-walking, although I've never really vexed myself with that. I'd rather sleep comfortably myself than waste energy annoying others while they also attempt a good night's rest."

I'm glad we had that in common. Sleep was for sleep and nice, _natural_ dreams. Not dreams induced by your bothersome friends. I think this guy was starting to grow on me, as much as I didn't want to really admit it.

Ibrahim smiled, as if he heard my thought. I'm sure he had.

"I will do my best to stay away from your mind, though, my dear. I understand how infuriating it must be to have someone inside your head, knowing everything about you, even your darkest secrets," To my horror, he winked. "Things that, as a father, I wish I now did not know."

"Shut up. That's what you get for messing around in my head," I growled, blushing.

Ibrahim laughed. "I suppose you're right. Don't worry. Your thoughts will have the utmost privacy from now on." He smiled. "Now, come. It's almost midnight, and you must be famished. Let's head down to that little restaurant in the lobby. After there's some food in my stomach and such, I'll answer any and every question swimming around in thy noggen."

I grinned. He was right; I _was_ starving. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a real meal. My stomach longed to be filled, almost as much as my questions longed to be answered.

Feeling warm with my coat on still, I pulled it off before walking towards the door with Ibrahim. When I tossed it on the bed I had just been perched on, I felt a hard, rectangular object in my pocket. _The book_, I thought, startled by the fact that I had completely forgotten it. Ibrahim had never mentioned it. He must have seen it in my thoughts. I wondered if he knew anything about it.

I opened my mouth to ask him as we started to walk down the narrow hallway, then shut it. _Later,_I told myself. I didn't want him to find a reason to avoid my questions, and I knew he wasn't going to give me any straight anwsers until we had both eaten.

A nice warm meal. I could die for a good steak or chicken breast. But I expected that Ibrahim might take a step outside. You know, for a smoke and such...


	9. Chapter 9: Ibrahim's Tale

I attacked the plate of food in front of me like a hungry wolf. I had no idea what I was eating (some weird Russian dish I couldn't pronounce), but i didn't care. My empty belly enjoyed every spoonful.

The homely little dining room was practically empty. Only a few seats were occupied, which made sense at this hour.

After Ibrahim had ordered my meal for me, he stepped outside, just like I had guessed he would. "For a smoke," he said, but I knew better. But I didn't want to think of how he planned on acquiring his meal. With his talent of compulsion, it would be easy for him to just walk up to a random stranger on the street and quickly convince them to give him what he wanted.

But that thought made me uneasy; taking advantage of an unsuspecting human like that was a big taboo in the Moroi world. Probably the biggest, right before turning Strigoi. Because once someone started unethically using humans like that, it was only a matter of time before that Morio killed their victim, therefor committing themselves to the "life" of an undead vampire.

Ibrahim was gone for maybe half an hour. He took his seat in front of me and watched me devour my plate in silence. I contemplated asking him about his absence, but thought better of it. If he actually was doing what I suspected, I didn't want to hear about it. While he may know my secrets, I don't want to know all of his.

Once I was content with my grub, I pushed away the plate and sat back in my chair. Ibrahim and I then commenced in a lengthy staring contest, which he quickly won when the stout serving woman came to take my plate away and momentarily distracted me. Dammit.

Finally, the man smirked and lowered his eyes. "Well, aren't you going to bombard me with questions?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Can't you just read my mind and save me the energy of having to ask them?"

"Cheeky, aren't you?" He chuckled. "I told you. I'm staying out of your head from now on."

I wasn't sure if I believed him or not, but what other choice did I have. "Well, good," I held my ceramic mug of coffee firmly in my hands and took a sip. Then I looked back at him.

"Where's your coven? That's what Liss called them anyway. Your group or family or whatever," I inquired. "Where have you been all my life?"

Ibrahim leaned back in his chair now. His eyebrows furrowed and I could tell he was thinking. "Now, that is quite a lengthy story," He closed his eyes and sighed. "We don't have time for the full version, but I'll i tell you all I can. You deserve the truth."

He sat quiet, not saying a word. I leaned forward attentively, not sure if he was really going to speak. Or if he was just going to be all Yoda-cryptic about it. But I fought my instinct to badger him or ask him "Well?". Instead, I just waited.

"I was born in the city of Sinop, right on the coast of the Black Sea. My father was the direct descendant of some Moroi sultan or another; I'm not sure which. All I knew that I was born into wealth, and my family was the most prominent family in the city, Moroi or otherwise.

"Being the spoiled young brat that I was, I strode about the city like I owned it, doing whatever I pleased. And it was all well and good, until my mother caught wind of my indecent behavior. Now, she didn't stand for that at all. Said that my recklessness was going to get me killed, by Strigoi or other. She was always so concerned for her son."

Ibrahim paused, a sorrowful smile across his face. "She had always insisted I get my own guardian. And I always declined, saying there was no need. We weren't a part of the Royal family or your Court, by any means, but the same Moroi customs apply all over the world. And where we resided, my family was considered the Moroi Czars of the Middle East, my father their acclaimed Sultan.

"But you would have no way of knowing that. Our Middle-Eastern Court, as we liked to call it, is not written in the text books at your academy. My people were not held in high esteem by the American and European Courts."

"Were?" I asked. "What happened?"

He smiled. "All in good time, love. My ramblings are not without reason. There will be a point, I promise. But as I talk, do you mind if I smoke?" Ibrahim pulled out his pack of dirty cigarettes. I nodded, eager for him to continue.

After a quick drag, he resumed his tale.

"By default, I was the heir to the Sultan's throne. I had no desire to lead a nation of bureaucratic Moroi, some of which had terroristic ideals. But my greed for my families wealth, and the wealth of others, prompted me to to fake my way through my father's lessons. By day, I was the ideal prince; but by night, I ran wild." Ibrahim frowned. "Until my mother died.

"She had a rare form of tuberculosis, and there was nothing her physicians could do. In the final stages, she could no longer feed on the human blood needed for sustenance, and she began to starve to waste away, from both hunger and disease.

"I was changed by her death. I quit the all night festivities, and I rarely left my room. That was when I began to feel the results of spirit. I had always assumed I had never specialized, as most Moroi with this affliction do. And by getting drunk or high every night, I had staved off the effects for many years. But quitting all of that as I did, cold turkey, hurt me in more ways then one. There was the traditional with drawl, of course, and then there was the creeping madness that awaits every spirit user. I tried to kill myself once.

"But in a moment of clarity, I realized I couldn't handle this by myself. I needed a protector, more to shield me from myself than the attacks of others. I though of my mother and how she wanted nothing more than my safety. And, because of that dear wish of hers, I requested that I have a guardian assigned to me."

"My mother." I muttered.

"Yes. Your mother. She was not always bound to the clan in Nepal, although she would never tell anyone of her time in Sinop. To her, our time together is nothing but a distant story, like a memory seen through another's eyes.

"I had never met anyone like her. So determined and serious. Unlike the Turkish women I was accustomed to, she didn't swoon under my every glance. In fact, she practically ignored me. Just a silent shadow that never spoke a word. Everyday I attempted conversation with her, in my broken English, but I could never to get her to crack a smile or reply. As hard as I knew she tried, she couldn't discourage me. I was utterly besotted with her, for reasons unknown to even me at the time. She was something foreign and beautiful. A diamond in the rough I was determined to make mine.

"But after six months and only a dozen words exchanged between us, I couldn't help but be put off. So one day, I confronted her directly about everything. I will never forget that day. I had led her down by the docks where the local peasants were bringing in their catches. The air smelled of salt and fish.

"'You're driving me mad', I told her. 'I can't stand your silence any longer. I try hard to get to know you, to perhaps be your friend, and you blatantly ignore me. You must start speaking to me, or I shall have to have you replaced by a guardian I can actually get along with.'"

Ibrahim smiled. "And do you know what she said? She said that she couldn't talk to me. Because she didn't want to risk getting to close, because she was afraid she might make a mistake. And when I asked her what sort of mistake she might make, she reached towards me and kissed me full on the mouth."

He was silent for a minute. The coffee in my hands had become cold long ago, but I still gripped it with white knuckles. My father's eyes were aimed somewhere far away beyond my head, his face etched with the sorrow of old memories. Then he sighed and continued.

"We conducted our love affair in secret. It would be deemed improper by the Court and my father if they knew of our relationship. In my world, the Moroi prince did not consort with his dhampir guardian. Actually, at the time, I was betrothed to the daughter of a wealthy Moroi oil baron in India. I had never met her and I knew I would never or could never love her. Because my heart already belonged to your mother.

"Then, out of the blue, she left. Simple as that. She never gave any hints before of her unhappiness, so I had no idea of the reasoning behind her departure. But I knew something was wrong when she wasn't outside my door that morning before breakfast. In order to keep up appearances, we couldn't spend the entire night together. But in the morning, she would always be there, alert and protecting, and when no one was looking, we would steal secret kisses. Except that morning. She wasn't there, so I went to her room. All her belongings were gone. There was no sign of her. But after tearing the room to shreds out of anger, I found a tiny hidden note.

"The note read, 'My dearest Ibrahim. I hope it is you who finds this, and not some one else. I'm sorry I couldn't say good bye. I'm sorry I have to leave in the first place. But it's for your own good that I release myself from your services. I hope I am not too much of a disappointment to you as a guardian. I wish only for your well being and that you grow to be the best ruler for your people that you can be. The burden with me is too great for you to bear as well, and as much as I long to stay by your side, I can't have you ruined on my accord. I will carry you in my heart always, Janine."'

Ibrahim threw the tiny butt of his cigarette (which had burnt itself out quite a while ago) across the room angrily.

"Your mother broke my heart. And it never fully healed."

I stared at him. "How do I know that your telling the truth? Just admit it, my mom was nothing but a one-night stand blood whore that you used and threw away. That's how it always is. How can I believe that load of bull-"

"You want proof, besides yourself? Fine, I'll give you proof!" He was yelling now, and he dug fervently inside his coat. Ibrahim whipped out a piece of paper and tossed it in my face. "As you Americans say, read it and weep."

Holding back an array of replies (like that no one says 'read it and weep' anymore), I unfolded the small, worn piece of paper.

Boy, did I feel like a bitch.

Written in my mother's neat handwriting was the letter that Ibrahim had recited to me. Yep, and there at the bottom was her familiar signature, the one that had ended many a birthday card and single paragraphed letter.

"Oh," I said dumbly. "I'm sorry. I had no idea that..."

"Your mother might not seem like it now, but there was a time when she was as young and vulnerable as you are now. Even back then, I could see that she wasn't indestructible, as much as she wanted to be. Which is why she left me, I'm sure. She just couldn't stand the thought of having a weakness."

"Her burden though," I wondered, "was me, wasn't it? She knew she was pregnant, and didn't want you to lose your title when the truth about your relationship came out."

He nodded. "That's what I like to think. It didn't take me long to find out she had bore a daughter. I tried to contact her, but I never got a response. I kept telling myself that it was for the best, that she did it because she still loved me. But a lot of good that did. I lost my crown, my fortune, my people. And to top it off, I was all alone."

''How did you lose it?"

"Ah, now this will answer your previous question about my Court. It was never even my Court, actually. It was destroyed during my father's reign, before I ever took the throne.

"My father was a foolish man. He ruled our people justly, and wasn't particularly cruel. But when he knew his time as Sultan was coming to an end, he felt he needed to make a mark on the Moroi world, to be remembered. There had always been friction between the Middle-Eastern Court and your own Moroi Court. The last open battle between the two happened during the Crusades. Since then, there had been a certain level of peace between the nations. But about 15 years ago, my father tried to over throw your queen, Tatiana, to gain control of all Moroi. As you can guess, his forces were quickly and quietly eliminated. No one but the Queen's closest advisers knew about the slaying. Not even the Royal families were informed. Tatiana wanted to keep it very hush. If word got out that she had ordered a mass annihilation of fellow Moroi, it would have caused disruption within the court. And if there is one thing Tatiana Ivashkov will not stand, it is those who question her matriarchal power."

I tried not to gape at him. Had Tatiana really ordered the her secret rival court be destroyed? I didn't doubt it. I knew exactly how dangerous and quick to anger she could be. With that woman it was her way or the highway.

Ibrahim lit another cigarette. "There was one attack; just one. That was all it took to wipe out my father's small army. We had forces comprised of human soldiers, volunteers who were under the impression that the Queen was a foreign dictator planning a mass scale terrorist attack on our country, and as many Moroi who would sign with him. But Tatiana had legions and legions of dhampirs at her disposal. And they massacred us. My father was killed, and the queen's troops continued ravaging our land and murdering my people. In the south, the human's were just beginning the Gulf War, so the mass casualties of my people were hardly noticed in the outside world.

"Afterwards, I left my homeland, taking with me a group of Moroi still loyal to me and my family. My closest friends and allies. I suppose, as Ms. Dragomir so bluntly puts it, my coven. We've been roaming across Europe, and before the last of my fortune ran out, I made several trips to America, as I've told you. At first, I had hoped to somehow find Janine there, to find her and convince her to come back to me. But I never did. And I'm sure I never will. I've only heard from her once since Sinop, which only confirmed that she no longer wanted anything to do with me. But in my heart, I still love her. And I have hope that maybe she does too."

Now I was blatantly staring agape at him. I knew he was telling the truth. I could see it in his eyes. And I knew something of forbidden love...

Ibrahim took a long drag, and met my intent gaze evenly. He smirked. "Well, there you go. There's my story. The important bits, anyway.'' He inspected his half-smoked cigarette absently and put it out on the thick oak table between us.

"Now, I know that via your mind, I learned a bit about you. But there's something that's been bothering me since my arrival in this god-forsaken city. Why, Rose, are you here? Yes, yes, I know about the Belikov lad. But what do you intend to do? What is your plan from here?"

I looked down at mug of chilled brown water in front of me. How could I tell him I had no idea where to go from here? Then I jerked my head up.

Duh. I _did_ have an idea. The book.

"Well, when I visited Dimitri's mother, she gave me something that might help..."


End file.
